Wilting Flowers
by S-Blood-M-Traitor-O
Summary: It's the day Harry and the Dursleys leave Privet Drive forever. Petunia recalls the events that led up to her life being so empty...
1. Chapter 1

Petunia Dursley slipped her warm salmon pink coat over the top of her dress. Her hands were shaking slightly as she did up the buttons. She was looking in the mirror above where her dresser had been. It was packed up now. She didn't know why she hadn't taken down the mirror sooner, but there it hug on the wall against the ugly creamy flowery wallpaper…. solitary and lonely looking reflecting the emptiness of the room it gazed at.

She had loved that wallpaper when she and Vernon first were married. He had helped her put it up. She had picked it herself. Why now did it seem so damned hideous?

But she could answer that.

Because there was nothing that remained in that house the reminded Petunia of anything she had ever been happy with. It was all packed away…ready to be shipped to God knew where. Her mother's old bedcovers, pictures of her wedding day, pictures of her son. Everything was packed up.

Sighing, she lifted the mirror gently off of the wall and carried it downstairs to where Vernon and Dudley were getting ready to leave. Dudley was complaining to her husband about something or other, the strange little…_wizard_ who was supposed to be helping them get away from…well…whatever was coming was examining their light switches most carefully, and off to the side stood Harry. Carrying the mirror and laying it down beside the door, she saw Harry looking at her. She raised her head and met his green eyes. Lily's eyes…

Lily's child.

Not hers.

Looking at them made her think of just why the boy was with her and Vernon to begin with. It brought her back to the day Lily and James had gotten married. Petunia herself and Vernon had been invited to the wedding and had reluctantly attended, only to be assailed with loud, rude, boisterous, _magical_ people who had offended them to their very limit. It was at the dinner at the reception, when a young man had come up to Petunia and offered her a drink, which she accepted, only to realize that he was blowing his nose into a cup and…whatever was coming out of his nose was turning into a kind of mulled wine. Petunia remembered screaming, and clinging to her husband who stormed out of the hall and drove them both home.

Lily had pleaded with Petunia, insisting that the man was drunk and that all wizards didn't act like that, but Petunia wouldn't hear of it. The Potters were freaks. Lily on her own wasn't any real threat. They were sisters after all. But that Potter boy was no good, and Vernon wouldn't hear of seeing them again.

After that, there wasn't much contact with the Potters. Obviously they weren't horribly offended that Petunia and Vernon did not want to see them because they never came around or called. Not even a letter, although Petunia did receive a birthday card the year Dudley was born. It had been handmade, out of some glossy kind of paper that glittered. It wasn't wild or abnormal (which she had expected of her sister) but simple with pressed roses on the front. She remembered opening it and a tiny golden bird had flown out singing a sweet "Happy Birthday" tune. That card was now packed away in her old mahogany chest.

Then, when she was twenty-seven, she and Vernon realized they were going to be parents, and it was the happiest day of her life.

She was so ready, so prepared to take on the challenges of a child, to cuddle a little one close and sing it to sleep. That night had held so much promise for them.

"_Vernon…." She walked shakily into the living room, so warm looking. Vernon was sitting in a big armchair, his coat and tie hung over the arm. He was reading a report._

"_What is it, dear?" he asked as he reached for her hand, alarmed at the look on her face. She looked up into his face, those small but sweet brown eyes, the beginnings of a mustache growing on his upper lip. _

"_Dr. Markham says…I'm going to have a baby."_

_His eyes had widened and a wide grin had spread over his round boyish face. He seemed lost for words as he wound his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She leaned into him, smelling the sweet smell of pipe smoke and cologne. _

"_I hope it's a boy." Muttered Vernon into her hair. _

_Petunia raised her head. _

"_But what if it's a girl?" she asked, looking worried. Vernon shrugged lightly and began to rotate with her on the floor. _

"_Then she better look like you." He whispered, and they danced to the music that was their child. Nothing else was needed._

The months had gone quickly, and before she knew it, Petunia was as wide as a house and feeling nothing less than the greatest joy she had felt in her entire life. She had heard during the fourth month of her pregnancy that Lily too was pregnant. Until this point, she had practically forgotten about her abnormal sister, and sent mild congratulations by mail.

Her baby was born in May, the prime of springtime on a rainy morning at Charing Hospital. Her child was a boy, a rather large boy in comparison to other babies in the nursery, but a beautiful one with full pink cheeks, deep blue eyes, and a wave of golden hair. He was perfect. They named him Dudley, after Vernon's father.

Every day after that was wonderful. Vernon would leave for work in the morning, kiss his wife and baby and be gone until roughly five o'clock, during which time Petunia and Dudley played, and went for walks, and for that first year…everything was bliss.

Then Harry came.

It was bad enough when he was born, getting all these letters from Lily explaining how exceptional Harry was, and how _magically_ inclined he was already, even at two months old. She had even dared to ask whether Dudley showed any sign of magical promise to which Petunia replied with a curt "Thankfully not." That had been the end of their correspondence.

No, Dudley did not show any magical talent, and Petunia was fine with this. Lily and James were freaks to have…_magic._ And it wasn't their place to criticize Dudley for not being equally freakish. He was just a little boy. And her little boy too. They could mess up their own offspring as much as they chose, but they were not to bring their strange influence to Dudley.

So life went on as usual, as though Lily and her wretched family didn't exist at all. Until that morning.

It was the morning after Halloween. Petunia had woken up earlier than usual. She had had a bad dream about lights and sadness, and it frightened her. She snuggled close to her husband in their big bed, Dudley sleeping soundly in his crib in the other room. Petunia was just about to drift off to sleep for another half an hour when she heard the sad pathetic cries of her son.

Sighing and getting to her feet, she grabbed her fluffy bathrobe off of its hook and began to walk down the hall towards the nursery. Her eyes were bleary as she opened the door and went towards the crib expecting to see her son standing up and crying for her, but he was asleep, nestled sweetly in his yellow and blue blankets, his chubby thumb in his mouth.

Confused, Petunia went back into the hall…but she could still hear crying. Maybe a neighbor's baby was crying? But it sounded so close.

Letting the matter rest, she decided to go downstairs and get the coffee started. She was putting the filter in the coffee maker, when she realized the crying had gotten closer. This was ridiculous, she thought, slamming her mug on the counter. Someone should see what that child needs. And she went to peek her head out of the door.

And screamed.

On the top step of their doorstep was a tiny wrapped bundle, crying quietly.

Petunia clutched the doorframe, hyperventilating and cried for her husband.

"_Vernon! Good God, Vernon, come quick!" _

_His footsteps came thundering down the stairs, still in his striped pajamas he appeared, breathless._

"_What?" _

_She pointed at the baby. _

"_What? A baby? Petunia, I don't understand; where did it come from?"_

"_I don't know! I don't know, Vernon!" she gasped, wringing her hands, a few hours later. They tad taken the baby inside, and he had instantly fallen asleep._

"_We can't keep it!" bellowed Vernon. "We have a child! Phone the police! Get some investigators on this! Get someone to identify that handwriting!"_

_Petunia felt the muscles in her cheeks tighten. _

"_What handwriting?" she asked, desperately. _

"_On the letter!" he demanded, looking as though she was insane. And he held up a letter in his hand. _

"_You didn't read it?" asked Petunia, springing to her feet. "Why not, Vernon?" _

"_It's addressed to you." He said quietly. And he handed her the letter. She blinked in shock as she stared at her own name, written in a fine thin script on yellow parchment. _

_Taking a deep breath, she opened the seal. _

_To Mrs. Petunia Dursley,_

_On this night, October 31, your sister and her husband, Lily and James Potter were killed at their place of residence in Goderic's Hollow. I say this with as much sensitivity as I can. They were murdered by a dark wizard, Lord Voldemort by means of a wand. This child that you have unexpectedly found upon your doorstep is the only survivor of the Potter family, the only one who has ever survived the killing curse in the history of all wizards. When the Dark Lord cast his spell upon Harry, the curse rebounded, and the Dark Lord is gone. However, I fear that this may not be the end of him. Harry is not safe here in the wizarding world (and I have no doubt that he is a wizard) There is something special about this boy. Naturally, I assume you are grieving, shocked and angry, but I tell you now with greatest urgency, that you must look after Harry James Potter. Raise him as your own. Love him. Because the ones who loved him are gone. _

_There is some information I have to pass on to you, and you alone. Lily and James were not killed by accident. The Dark Lord knew of a prophecy, made long before Harry was born. This prophecy spelled out that a child born in July would be the enemy of the Dark lord himself. From the time he learned of the prophecy, the Dark Lord has hunted the Potters. I tried to protect them by means of a Fidelius Charm, a charm that shields someone from their enemies until the person who has designated themselves "Secret Keeper" has given up the secret. You should know that they were betrayed by one of their dearest friends._

_Furthermore, while the Dark Lord may be gone, there will always be those who followed him who will seek to destroy this child, and he himself may one day return. I fear this day greatly, and it is with a heavy hand that I say that I know it will come. _

_Now, you must know of why Harry lived. _

_Lily, your sister, died before the curse was tried on Harry. It is my theory that she protected him, perhaps even cast herself in front of him before the curse hit. I am not sure. However, if I am right (and to risk boasting, I am nearly never wrong) Lily's blood was what protected Harry, her love. It is for this reason that I send Harry to you. Her blood is yours, and hopefully her love as well. _

_I ask this of you now. Give Harry a home until he reaches his seventeenth birthday, so that he might be safe. It is essential that you do as I ask. The Dark lord will return, and when he does, his wrath will be terrible. Both of our worlds will be at war. _

_I will know if you refuse. _

_And I will be forced to take action with several of my associates if I need to. _

_I hope you will become as good a family as any, _

_With greatest thanks, _

_Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore. _


	2. Chapter 2

eehighargylesocks: I think that at that point in her life, Petunia understood a bit. I think she would have had to, living with a witch in her family. I also wrote the letter from Dumbledore in as much detail as I did, because it is my belief that he had to tell her everything so she wouldn't abandon Harry. She had to have some insight into the magnitude of what was happening. What she chose to do with that information is another matter. I think she would have suppressed it as much as she could. Thanks for the review!

Petunia held the letter in shaking hands, and looked at her husband who's face was white.

"We'll have to keep him, Vernon." She said quietly. Immediately, her husband was blustering "WHAT? Petunia! He's not our son! Some random crackpot leaves him on our doorstep, and we're the goddamned Salvation Army?! We have a child of our own! Send him to an orphanage! Get him out of my house!"

"We can't!" said Petunia, her voice steady. "He has nowhere else to go, Vernon." Her eyes were desperate. "We can't let him go."

"And why not?!" demanded her husband. "You read the letter! That boy is abnormal. A danger to our own son, Petunia."

"I know." She said. "But, this is out of our hands. We'll have to take him in." Vernon continued to look astounded, as though she had hit him hard over the head with something very heavy.

"They're dead, Vernon. Lily and James…murdered. He survived…" Vernon's face crumpled in a frown.

"What if whoever killed them knows we have him? We could be killed!"

"It's in the letter, Vernon." Vernon put his hands over his face, and sat down heavily on the couch.

"We don't have to like him." She said in a louder voice. "But he has to stay here, Vernon." His eyes were popping, his face turning a nasty shade of purple.

"You're mad." He said in a hushed voice. "You're mad and I won't hear of this. The boy doesn't have any right to live here. Fine, we'll keep him, but if he infringes on Dudley's life here, he will be sorry." And he stormed upstairs and slammed his office door.

Petunia walked over to where Harry slept, still bundled in the armchair, a rather precarious spot of a sleeping baby. She picked him up, and cradled him in her arms, pulling back the folds of cloth that covered his brow. Frowning, she noticed a nasty looking cut on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. It wasn't bleeding. In fact, it seemed to have cauterized on the spot. The child was very small.

She took him upstairs to where her own baby was sleeping still soundly in his crib. Balancing under one arm, she stooped and picked up Dudley, replacing him with Harry in the crib.

"Come on, Duddie." She cooed as he opened bleary eyes. "Let's have breakfast." And she carried him downstairs.

Looking at her son, rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes, she realized her husband was right. Her sister's son was dangerous, dangerous to her and dangerous to Dudley. There was only one way to keep Dudley safe, and that was to raise Harry as normally as he could be raised. He deserved nothing better than Dudley. He would not have special privileges. But he also would never know of his true identity. He couldn't. Already, she despised the fact that her sister's child would be living in her house for seventeen years. Already, she knew what kind of a boy he would grow up to be. He already had his father's roguish looks. Lily had been one thing, but that Potter…

And now, he was hers.

She thought these things. She thought them for the years after that night she had found him on her doorstep. They didn't acknowledge his birthday (why bother?) or buy him things (he didn't need them!) but still…when Harry fell on the pavement outside of their house while playing and cut open his knee, it was Petunia that picked him up, and bandaged his cut. It was she who had held him for a brief moment and told him he was going to be all right.

And just years ago, when Harry and Dudley had come back late at night, Dudley half dead…She had no doubt that Harry did not do anything to Dudley. He had explained everything that had happened in the kitchen, but she didn't want to believe him. She didn't want to believe any of it. But regardless of what she believed, she knew that Harry had saved her son's life…his soul. The crossover of the dementors into their life was the most frightening thing she had ever experienced. They were not safe. But something about Harry being there hd made them safer. Watching him stand before her in that kitchen, owls swooping in, she had realized that something more than just magic tricks was what was destined for her nephew.

She now stood, in front of the door, her husband and son putting all of their belongings in the car that had been magically enhanced to fit everything. It really was the end, she thought as she gazed around their hallway, devoid of any more pictures, revealing the tears in the wallpaper. And though she wished it were not true with all her heart, petunia knew she would never return to this house, this house that had been her family's home.

She gazed now at Harry, who leaned against the banister of the staircase, his hands in his pockets, his trunk and his owl sitting beside him. On a normal day, she would have reprimanded him and told hi to get himself off of their furniture, but it didn't even cross her mid today.

"Are you quite ready?" asked Dedalus Diggle, who was hauling Dudley's racing bike out the door with much difficulty. "We should be leaving soon!"

"Er…right then." Muttered Vernon, picking up two large suitcases. "Well, good-bye, boy" he snapped at Harry without meeting his eyes. Harry shrugged and said

"Bye."

Vernon and Dudley carried their things outside leaving only Petunia, standing in front of her own suitcase, staring at Harry.

It struck her now that she would probably never see him again. Whatever he had to do, it didn't involve her or Vernon or Dudley, and probably never would. He looked at her, his eyes, so like Lily's.

She wanted to say something to him. Perhaps to shake his hand, to hold him. To thank him for saving Dudley almost three years before. She never had thanked him….

He gave her a small nod, which she returned, and Vernon grabbed her by the arm and led her outside.

It was with a semi-heavy heart that she sat in the backseat next to Dudley and Hestia Jones. Vernon drove, and Dedalus Diggle sat next to him, giving directions to wherever they were going. She realized that she didn't know where they were going….She didn't even know where they were supposed to live!

They drove for what seemed like hours. The landscape passed by quickly, and Petunia found herself getting a headache. She reached down between her feet for her suitcase, and rummaged around for her ibuprofin. The car jostled as it hit a bump, and her hand slipped and touched something else.

It was something soft and made of cloth. She frowned and pulled out what seemed to be a blanket. It was cream colored, and sort of ratty, not the kind of thing she would have kept in her scrupulously clean house.

And then she knew.

It was a baby blanket, but not Dudley's. His had been fleecy, colorful, and warm. Harry's was ratty and torn in two places. It was the same blanket he had been in when Petunia had found him on her doorstep almost seventeen years ago. She held it up to her face and sniffed it. It smelled musty, but she had kept it in her trunk all this time. How curious, she thought. It almost made her sad.

"All right, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, we have arrived" squeaked Dedalus, hopping out of the side door. "Welcome to your new home. It's very safe, covered in all the latest enchantments and security spells." Petunia stepped out of the car and inhaled sharply.

She was home. The house looked exactly the same as the one on Privet Drive, down to the rose bushes growing in front of the living room window, and the large plastic number "4" on the left hand side of the front door. They were in a suburban neighborhood that looked the same as Privet Drive, small cars going down the street, neighbors going for a walk.

"But…" she stammered. "But this is…"

"Wonderful, isn't it?" asked Dedalus proudly. "We would have let you stay except the Dark Lord would go straight to you first for information about Harry. Your new address is Number 4, Portsmouth Drive, Essex. I trust the house is to your liking; we did take every pain to find you a house very much like your old one."

"Shall we go in?" asked Hestia, looking somewhat disconcerted at the look on the Dursley's faces.

"Erm…right." Said Vernon gruffly. And he began to unload the car.

Upon walking into the hallway, Petunia gasped. The wallpaper was exactly the same as at Privet Drive, as was the carpeting and the little furniture that was there.

Several hours later, everything was unpacked. The television, the kitchen supplies, the table, beds, everything. Dedalus and Hestia had wanted to use magic to make things move faster, but Petunia and Vernon wouldn't hear of it. It took about six hours to unload everything. Anything they had left at Privet Drive was magically already there.

Sitting on their couch, right where it had been in Little Whinging, Petunia thought of her son and of Harry. Where was he now? What if he died along the way? It was horrible to have these thoughts hit her now. She, who had never really cared for the boy, suddenly realized that his success meant everything. She wished she could have given him some words of encouragement and gratitude when he left. Understanding his quest was something her husband and her son would never do, but she did understand. Their worlds were not so different. Every day, people suffered and died. Every day people lost themselves to higher powers, but no one really ever did anything about it. Harry had chosen to do something about it. And it was now that she appreciated, for the first time ever, being his aunt.

As these thoughts danced across her mind, she didn't notice Hestia and Dedalus draw their wands.

"It's like we never left." said Dudley quietly, looking through the curtains to the street. "It's just like I remember."

"And that's how it should be, Dudley" said Hestia calmly, and nodded to Dedalus.

Good luck, Harry, Petunia thought. Stay strong. You deserved far better than us.

And a single tear ran out of her so typically dry eyes as Hestia and Dedalus said,

"OBLIVIATE!"

"Lovely day, dear." Said Vernon, taking a sip of his coffee, sitting in his armchair in front of the television. "England playing tonight?"

"I think so, Vernon" she said absently, putting the last curls of frosting on the cake she made for after dinner

. "Dudders home yet?"

"No, he's off for tea. I'm not sure where."

"I'm he's adjusted so well to this neighborhood." Said Vernon, flipping through his newspaper. "Everything worked out like magic."

Petunia gave a small laugh, and placed a cherry in the center of the cake. Looking at her husband she said,

"Darling, there's no such thing as magic."


End file.
